Ye Olde Change of Plans

Ye Olde Change of Plans — Blue Ink Alchemy

Darlings, I am busy as hell this week. Busier than I thought I would be. My original plans for the week in terms of productivity and relaxation both have been torpedoed gloriously. Instead of feeling charged and accomplished for my first PAX Prime, I feel old and worn out. The worst part is, PAX itself has not even started yet, and I still have more work ahead of me on the morrow. As it stands, I don't think I'll be able to finish my review of Kick-Ass 2 on time as intended, nor will I be able to make much more progress on Cold Streets. I apologize for the disruption and I look forward to being back on a regular schedule, and as always, thank you for reading.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Remembering Bub

Flash Fiction: Remembering Bub — Blue Ink Alchemy

For the Terribleminds challenge, "Another Ten Words".

---

Even when he was human, he never cared for funerals. Death was an uncomfortable subject for many mortals, and funerals tended to bring an individual face to face with the specter of mortality, especially in violent circles. He stayed back from the front of the church's sanctuary, where family members both intimate and extended slowly filed past the casket to pay their respects. He had no desire to show a lack of respect; he'd simply said everything he needed to say at their last meeting. "This lot never seek to captivate me." He didn't have to turn to know a statuesque woman was standing behind him, uttering those words. It was a presence he'd felt many times. "I warned him about this. I told him he was pushing too hard against the Gates." "And now he is gone. Has all of your deceit been worth it?" At that, he did turn to face her. She had been a beautiful woman by mortal standards; looking past the skin, he could barely withstand her glory. Part of him shrank, fought to run, pleaded to hide, to be forgiven; he crushed the sentiment under his heel. "Why are you here, Raziel?" She smiled. "Have I become so like you that I need an ulterior motive to see you?" "Absolutely. Next thing you know you'll be bathing in brimstone." Raziel made a face. "I don't think that'd help my complexion." "Somewhere in the canyon Below, Beelzebub is recovering. It may take time, but he will return." "In the meantime, you can consolidate your power. Rally your troops. Get things in order before the balloon goes up." "I'm curious. Why did he choose that vessel? He must have known it was dangerous." "He was always fascinated with the way humans quote-unquote 'organize' their crime. He wanted to see that world from the inside. I was, naturally, obliged to follow. And you know for a fact that we are not common clay as they are." He gestured at the funeral-goers. "It takes a bit more than a few little punctures to send us back from whence we came." "It does take some doing to rip the demon out of the flesh." Raziel examined her fingers. "It's almost an art." "You still haven't answered my question." Raziel looked at him evenly, then at the rest of the funeral. "I wanted to see the aftermath. Witness mortals facing their mortal nature. Record what choices they make." He smirked. "That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? Their choices." "Belial..." "No, wait, hear me out." Belial began to pace. "Lucifer wanted for us - you and me - the same thing that God gave to humans. He wanted us to be able to choose. But, think about it. Lucifer fell. And we fell with him. We did make a choice. But whereas the choices humans make do not essentially change who or what they are, we were changed. Disfigured. We no longer have your grace and glory; we have only malice and terror. We remain as awesome as you in countenance and presence; yet humans run towards you away from us." "That is, at best, a broad generalization. Not all mortals make that choice. Some reject the notion of Heaven as a place to be sought and opt to make deals with your kind. Others eschew metaphysical planes entirely and believe that there's nothing but the dirt and themselves." "Doesn't that just reinforce my contention that humanity's free will, and the choices born of it, does not fundamentally alter them?" Raziel thought for a moment, reaching out with her hand to examine a willow branch protruding from a bouquet near the exit. "Is that why you want to usurp Lucifer?" Belial winced. Even the mention of the nature of his plan made him anxious and paranoid. Still, he pressed on. "Think about it, Raziel. It can go back to the way it was. The Satan is supposed to be a complimentary role. The point is to test humanity, not stick it to Heaven over a grudge. Heaven is the carrot; Hell is supposed to be the stick. Lucifer is angry, angry enough to still want to end the whole thing. Global cataclysms, gatherings at Armageddon, the Horsemen, all of it." "And you're not?" "Would I be working with you if I was? Raziel, something changes about us, on the atomic level, when we make the choices that define us. Humans can define and re-define themselves at the drop of the proverbial hat. How can they do this? Why were they made so malleable? I need to know the answers to these questions. I need data. I need to experiment." She crossed her arms and leaned against the font of holy water near the back of the sanctuary, the one used by incoming parishioners to cross themselves. "So make deals and observe the results for yourself." Belial shook his head. "Too inefficient. A deal can take decades to bear viable data. If I control more demons directly, I can observe more results. This is the logical conclusion." Raziel studied him, and to his surprise, smiled a little. Even more surprising to him was the reaction from his body. "That is what this is all about then? The mere result of an equation you've processed already?" "For the most part, yes. There are fringe benefits, of course. Like seeing that pompous ass Beelzebub get kicked back downstairs. Nice work, by the way." "Darling, one doesn't become the Keeper of Secrets in Heaven without learning how to silence those who'd disseminate those Secrets." He looked at her, deeply, for a long wordless moment. "That's why you're here. You want to know if I'll betray you now that Bub is out of the way." "It's a logical conclusion to make. You are a demon." "Yes, but I gave you my word that our bargain is ironclad. You know how seriously we take such things." "Perhaps we should discuss that more." Raziel smiled again. "Over dinner."

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

The Author is Out: Seattle 2013

The Author is Out: Seattle 2013 — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'm in Seattle for the next week and half. Posts may be somewhat sporadic as I did not have the wherewithal before I left to ask folks for guest entries. I'm pretty well prepared in every other aspect of the trip, though! So I guess I can't complain much. I will see what I can do about Flash Fiction for tomorrow, and a review of Kick-Ass 2 should be up Wednesday. After that, it's PAX Prime. I expect to be busy as hell, dead on my feet, pulled in seventeen different directions, and loving every single second of it. As an aside? I really, really like it out here.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Games in Story Mode

Games in Story Mode — Blue Ink Alchemy

More than a few video games that provide a multiplayer experience also have single player campaigns. In fighting games and others, this is referred to as 'story mode'. The quality of these stories can vary wildly, but the pitfalls and perils of storytelling in video games is much better covered by other sources, and it's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing this because relegating "story mode" to single player play feels like a misnomer, even in something as simple as a fighting game or a first-person shooter. Whenever more than one person is involved in play, I feel there's massive potential for storytelling. Some systems better facilitate this than others, of course. Eventually, in a fighting game, you'll stop contriving reasons your character gets up after having his or her spine ripped out or all of his or her ribs broken. Games set up for multiple players that lean towards story construction, from MMOs to your typical Dungeons & Dragons campaign, have plenty of tools to keep things moving. But those games tend to come with a lot of systems and rules that can interrupt the flow of the story. I enjoy them thoroughly, don't get me wrong, but some games have a fantastic way of keeping the game aspects simple and letting the story aspects shine. Consider Fiasco, by Jason Morningstar. Much like a role-playing game with the tables and systems stripped down to the bare minimum, Fiasco is "a game of high ambition and low impulse control." Inspired by caper films like Burn After Reading, Snatch, Fargo, and A Simple Plan, the game puts players in relationships with one another and gives them each goals to try and achieve. The systems are there simply to set up the tapestry of the situation, from who knows whom to what's desired and why, and to let you know when things are about to go horribly, horribly wrong. In the end, the dice are an impetus for the tension, drama, fun, and laughs, rather than encapsulating those things themselves. It's a brilliant game and a great way to tell stories with friends, especially if one hews to Rogers' Rules: 1. Who Wants What? 2. Why Can't They Have It? 3. Why Should I Give A Shit? Shock: is a similar game by Joshua A.C. Newman, where players work together to create a sci-fi world in the vein of Ursula K. LeGuin or Philip K. Dick, populate that world with their ideas and characters, and go nuts from there. Everybody around the table contributes to the aspects of the universe created, from the nature of the planets to the motivations of both protagonists and antagonists, and the ruleset, like Fiasco's, keeps the story central while offering support to keep things moving and keep players interested. It's a fascinating approach to both gaming and storytelling. As impressive and fun it can be to see what enjoyment can be wrought from a big box full of wooden components, cards, boards, and tokens, there's something to be said for the sheer power of a story well-told with friends. Collaboration gives rise to ideas that could never have taken flight on their own, and when everybody's helping tell the story, everybody has a stake in seeing it through to the end. That's what makes games like Fiasco and Shock: so brilliant. It's not about the components or the systems or anything the game actually provides; it's all about the people around the table. You can buy Fiasco here, and Shock: here.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Elysium

Movie Review: Elysium — Blue Ink Alchemy

The summer of 2013 has been a difficult one in terms of finding truly great films. Most of the fare out there is either sequels or trash, and sometimes trashy sequels. Original ideas seemed few and far between. For the most part, I was looking forward to two films that looked like they might breathe fresh air into both cinemas and the sci-fi genre in particular. Both were not only unique in premise, at least insofar as they were not based on previous intellectual property, but they also were helmed by visionary directors who are favorites of mine. One was Guillermo del Toro's Pacific Rim, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and the other was Neill Blomkamp's Elysium. Max DaCosta was not having a good day. Already on the wrong side of the bed, he sassed one of the robot police at his bus stop, and got his arm broken for his trouble. Elysium, the space platform orbiting Earth populated by the super-rich and elite, hangs overhead as he explains this first to his robotic parole officer and then to his brusque foreman at the factory where the robots are built. When he suffers a workplace accident during this terrible day which will leave him dead by the end of the week, he resolves that he's going to get himself to Elysium, where he's certain he can be healed. Meanwhile, Elysium's strict and brutal defense secretary finds herself fed up with the sitting government, and looks to make a change without having to worry about pesky things like elections and the opinions of the people. Much like District 9, Elysium wraps its lived-in and utilitarian sci-fi aesthetic with a good dollop of social commentary. Disparity seems to be Blomkamp's focus of choice, this time on wealth & class disparity rather than racial. As necessary as such commentary is, especially delivered supposedly hidden within a summer blockbuster, the problem with Elysium is that things are a little on-the-nose. Storytelling with purpose is a subtle art, and as ignorant as the masses can tend to be, hammering points home with brute force can turn people off from the story and the characters. This, unfortunately, is the case here: the lingua franca being Spanish feels realistic enough in the sordid squalor of Los Angeles, but when Jodie Foster starts talking like a female Dick Cheney, you get the distinct impression you know where this story is going.
Blomkamp still keeps his violence brutal, direct, and short - which is great. It could be argued that storytelling is more about the journey than the destination. When it comes to Elysium, the journey is at least entertaining and at times breathtaking to behold. Blomkamp still has a knack for visuals, and his shots of both the floating platform of the well-to-do and the urban decay of the world below feel authentic, realistic, and even lived-in. Things have weight and utility, and the immersion one gets into this vision of the future is palpable. Action is cleanly shot, inventive, and pulse-pounding, making the audience put the lack of subtlety aside while the visceral beats are playing out. If nothing else, Blomkamp hasn't missed a step when it comes to keeping an audience engaged for the running time of a film. While the casting in Elysium is decent, and the actors feel authentic and natural in their roles, it's difficult to point to any of them and say "only this person could have played that role." While it's clear that we're intended to relate to some characters and, to an extent, at least understand others, the characters are a touch too pat and generic to really evoke emotions of empathy. Matt Damon and Jodie Foster and the others are fine, but other than being able to relate to Max's terrible horrible no-good very-bad day and feeling animosity towards Foster's ultra-conservative zealot, the characters they play are not all that memorable. The exception, of course, is Shartlo Copley's Kruger, the slightly unhinged and surprisingly nuanced psychopathic Elysium hitman that is easily the best part of the film.
You wouldn't want to meet this guy in a dark alley. Or anywhere. I think a comparison is inevitable, so here's how Elysium stacks up against District 9. The themes are very similar, but where Elysium slams its plot points and allegories hard, District 9 weaved a more subtle story. Elysium's protagonist feels a lot like your typical blockbuster down-on-his-luck tough guy with whom we're supposed to sympathize immediately, while District 9 gave us a main character who, initially, feels more like a lackey and a spineless jerk than someone who will become capable of anything heroic. Elysium clicks along its rails with expediency and cleanliness with a dollop of predictability; District 9 had a habit of keeping you guessing and, therefore, more engrossed. In spite of being the story involving aliens, in the end, District 9 feels like a far more human story. In the end, Elysium is decent, but unfortunately lacks the punch and pathos of its predecessor. Blomkamp still has it where it counts, and his film does entertain, but it fails to truly engage in a lasting manner. I'm glad I saw it in the theatre, as much like Pacific Rim, I want to support artists who try something new rather than simply irritating, but Elysium sadly does not do quite enough to break away from the pack and what's gone before. It's good. It isn't great. I expected more. And, if I recall correctly, if the biggest problem you have with a movie is "there isn't enough of it", there's a good indication that something's being done right.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: Elysium

Movie Review: Elysium — Blue Ink Alchemy

The summer of 2013 has been a difficult one in terms of finding truly great films. Most of the fare out there is either sequels or trash, and sometimes trashy sequels. Original ideas seemed few and far between. For the most part, I was looking forward to two films that looked like they might breathe fresh air into both cinemas and the sci-fi genre in particular. Both were not only unique in premise, at least insofar as they were not based on previous intellectual property, but they also were helmed by visionary directors who are favorites of mine. One was Guillermo del Toro's Pacific Rim, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and the other was Neill Blomkamp's Elysium. Max DaCosta was not having a good day. Already on the wrong side of the bed, he sassed one of the robot police at his bus stop, and got his arm broken for his trouble. Elysium, the space platform orbiting Earth populated by the super-rich and elite, hangs overhead as he explains this first to his robotic parole officer and then to his brusque foreman at the factory where the robots are built. When he suffers a workplace accident during this terrible day which will leave him dead by the end of the week, he resolves that he's going to get himself to Elysium, where he's certain he can be healed. Meanwhile, Elysium's strict and brutal defense secretary finds herself fed up with the sitting government, and looks to make a change without having to worry about pesky things like elections and the opinions of the people. Much like District 9, Elysium wraps its lived-in and utilitarian sci-fi aesthetic with a good dollop of social commentary. Disparity seems to be Blomkamp's focus of choice, this time on wealth & class disparity rather than racial. As necessary as such commentary is, especially delivered supposedly hidden within a summer blockbuster, the problem with Elysium is that things are a little on-the-nose. Storytelling with purpose is a subtle art, and as ignorant as the masses can tend to be, hammering points home with brute force can turn people off from the story and the characters. This, unfortunately, is the case here: the lingua franca being Spanish feels realistic enough in the sordid squalor of Los Angeles, but when Jodie Foster starts talking like a female Dick Cheney, you get the distinct impression you know where this story is going.
Blomkamp still keeps his violence brutal, direct, and short - which is great. It could be argued that storytelling is more about the journey than the destination. When it comes to Elysium, the journey is at least entertaining and at times breathtaking to behold. Blomkamp still has a knack for visuals, and his shots of both the floating platform of the well-to-do and the urban decay of the world below feel authentic, realistic, and even lived-in. Things have weight and utility, and the immersion one gets into this vision of the future is palpable. Action is cleanly shot, inventive, and pulse-pounding, making the audience put the lack of subtlety aside while the visceral beats are playing out. If nothing else, Blomkamp hasn't missed a step when it comes to keeping an audience engaged for the running time of a film. While the casting in Elysium is decent, and the actors feel authentic and natural in their roles, it's difficult to point to any of them and say "only this person could have played that role." While it's clear that we're intended to relate to some characters and, to an extent, at least understand others, the characters are a touch too pat and generic to really evoke emotions of empathy. Matt Damon and Jodie Foster and the others are fine, but other than being able to relate to Max's terrible horrible no-good very-bad day and feeling animosity towards Foster's ultra-conservative zealot, the characters they play are not all that memorable. The exception, of course, is Shartlo Copley's Kruger, the slightly unhinged and surprisingly nuanced psychopathic Elysium hitman that is easily the best part of the film.
You wouldn't want to meet this guy in a dark alley. Or anywhere. I think a comparison is inevitable, so here's how Elysium stacks up against District 9. The themes are very similar, but where Elysium slams its plot points and allegories hard, District 9 weaved a more subtle story. Elysium's protagonist feels a lot like your typical blockbuster down-on-his-luck tough guy with whom we're supposed to sympathize immediately, while District 9 gave us a main character who, initially, feels more like a lackey and a spineless jerk than someone who will become capable of anything heroic. Elysium clicks along its rails with expediency and cleanliness with a dollop of predictability; District 9 had a habit of keeping you guessing and, therefore, more engrossed. In spite of being the story involving aliens, in the end, District 9 feels like a far more human story. In the end, Elysium is decent, but unfortunately lacks the punch and pathos of its predecessor. Blomkamp still has it where it counts, and his film does entertain, but it fails to truly engage in a lasting manner. I'm glad I saw it in the theatre, as much like Pacific Rim, I want to support artists who try something new rather than simply irritating, but Elysium sadly does not do quite enough to break away from the pack and what's gone before. It's good. It isn't great. And, to be honest, I expected more.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Drill, Baby, Drill

Drill, Baby, Drill — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Rabbitpoets, will credit original artist! When I encounter a new story that I find myself enjoying thoroughly, there's a part of me that can't just leave it at that. I have to look deeper than my superficial glee and take a look at what really calls to me about the tale. I have to examine characters, plot points, meanings and development. I don't know if it's my background in doing so for years at university, or my desire to better understand other stories so I can write mine better, but in any case, it's what makes me review and critique stuff on a regular basis. Case in point: I just finished watching the anime series Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann and I enjoyed the hell out of it. I'm no stranger to big robot anime. Voltron and Robotech (Macross in particular) were staples growing up. When I hit university I was introduced to more - Macross Plus, Gundam Wing and the brilliant but bizarre Neon Genesis Evangelion. There are plenty of other mecha anime out there, and plenty of anime that get classified as shounen - aimed primarily at young or teenage boys with exciting action and plenty of fighting. One might think, with a cursory glance, that Gurren Lagann is in the same vein as these, even with its unique aesthetic, but it doesn't take long for the series's true strengths to reveal themselves. In a few other series I've dipped my toe into and even enjoyed, the main character gets his special power or destiny, and pursues it with dogged determination that, while admirable, does not vary his character much. Gurren Lagann, on the other hand, lets its characters develop naturally. The character of Simon, in particular, goes through a lot of growth from the beginning of the series to its end. In addition to the respect I give a story for the willingness to actually end legitimately and well, there's the fact that the Simon at the end of the story is a different person, a more developed person, than he was at the beginning. The same goes for Yoko; a character that easily could have been relegated to simple fan service is also allowed to grow, breathe, develop, and take on a life of her own. Another way in which the series sets itself apart is in the fact that actions have consequences. Each victory that our heroes gain take them deeper into a world they did not anticipate, and as much as the show likes to treat the laws of physics more like loose guidelines than actual rules, there's no cheap resurrections and no going back. Changes are irreversible, and consequences must be dealt with. In a general genre and specific sub-genre that is usually all about an empowerment fantasy free of consequences, seeing a show that drops the hammer on its character multiple times for things they do is refreshing. As cool as it would be to pilot a giant mecha, Gurren Lagann seems to treat its unique and strikingly designed machines as exactly what they are: vehicles. They're the means by which the story and its meaning are delivered, and the meaning is this: it's okay to be yourself. In fact, the ideal way to live one's life is to forge ahead making one's own destiny with a sense of self-belief. Believing in yourself can be hard to do, especially when it feels like the whole world is against you, but when people have faith in you, and you have faith in yourself, there is literally nothing you can't do. Rather than relegate such things to occasional character moments or after-credits messages, Gurren Lagann makes this the driving force behind its narrative, a massive drill that bores a hole right through your expectations. The individual's sense of self-worth is a weapon in and of itself; when fully realized, it's an extremely potent one. I may be reading too much into an anime series, or drawing an inordinate amount of inspiration from it, but that's who I am. I take the lessons I find from what I experience and I try to make them a part of my life. I am, as always, a work in progress. I will never stop learning, never stop growing, and never stop writing about it. That's what I do. And the more I do it, the more proud I become of what I'm doing and what I will do in the future. I may not live up to some expectations, I may make mistakes, but I will make my future my own, because that's what you do when you come to realize who you are and what that means to you and to the world around you. I'm a writer. I'm a fanboy. I'm a critic and a philosopher and I fight for what I believe in. Who the hell do you think I am?

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Destroyer's Lament

Flash Fiction: Destroyer's Lament — Blue Ink Alchemy

For the challenge Subgenre Frankenstein over at Terribleminds.

---

Don't ask me how they found me. I'd changed my name, moved across the country, started over with a new job, a new life. I stayed off of the grid, paid for things in cash, and wasn't exactly on the right side of the law. I'd never been one to kowtow to established high-profile authority, and while that'd put me in hot water more than once, I was still my own man and I still made my own way in this world, busted and broken and threatened as it was. So imagine my surprise when old Colonel Richmond knocks on the door of my dinky apartment. It was 2 AM when he came calling. I'd killed half a bottle of whiskey a couple hours earlier and my intent was to finish it off the moment I woke up. Big Jim had more work for me, but the fat fuck was keeping me in a holding pattern while he cleared something or other with his bosses, or at least found a way around 'em. I thought it might be him, but when I staggered up from the couch and looked through the peephole, I saw the old handlebar mustache and crisp military stance I both admired and hated. He couldn't hide those behind civvies. I grunted, and opened the door until the chain was taut. "I'm retired." "No. You're deactivated. For now." "What d'you want, Paulie?" "I hate it when you call me that." "So go away, 'cause I ain't stopping." "I can't. I have orders." I'm not sure if I grunted or chuckled. Maybe both. "Those orders prevent you from drinkin'?" Richmond gave me a thousand-yard stare. I closed the door, undid the chain, and threw it open. I turned my back on him and went back to the couch and my bottle. He stood on the other side of my coffee table as I took a swig. It burned in my throat and all the way down. Woke me up. "What brings you to the ass-end of the urban sprawl, Colonel?" "This." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a mini-tab. A couple of touches later, I was watching video footage of Los Angeles. Something at least fifteen feet tall and made of scales and bad attitude was smashing into buildings and roaring, something bright and probably acidic dripping from its jaws. I watched for a few moments before taking another drink. "We don't know why or how they're here. But chances are there's more coming." As I watched, two fighters swooped in. For a moment, the casual observer could have mistaken them for your typical military aircraft. But as they turned, they changed, weapons pods becoming arms and thrusters legs, grasping massive cannons that had formerly run the length of their fuselages. The monster turned and spat at one, dissolving the chest that protected the cockpit, while the other opened fire. "We believe this is a scout. Others popped up in Tokyo, Singapore, Seattle, Vladivostok, Melbourne..." "I get the picture." "We're spread thin. The UN has authorized us to take steps to ensure we have the defenses we need. Last time, the threat came from above. We're afraid this is something new, from the sea or another source. We're working on it." "Can ya get to the part where you tell me what th' hell this has t' do with me?" "You're the Destroyer." I glared up at him. "Was. I told you. Retired." "Deactivated." He tapped something on the minitab. An official document appeared. "This is a reactivation order. Full rank and privileges from the time of your discharge. Back pay. First crack at the new Variable prototypes." I set down my bottle. "You must want me pretty bad. Question is, what for?" "We're getting volunteers by the truckload. Somebody's gotta train the ones good enough to pilot Variables." I laughed in his face. "Forget it." "Jack..." "I said no, Paulie." "We need you." "Why? Didn't anybody else survive the invasion?" "None of them are as good as you." "That's because most of 'em are dead." "That isn't your fault." I stood and started to pace. I didn't like where this was going. "Explain that to me, Paulie, 'cause my understanding of 'CAG' is that I command the air group. Meaning the people under me are my responsibility. And when an entire squadron gets blown outta the sky by an alien death ray nobody told me about I might add, I figure it's the CAG's duty to feel shitty about it. You didn't write out all of those goddamn condolence messages, Paulie. I did. 'Destroyer'? Got saddled with that back at Acad. Didn't think I'd be destroyin' the lives of the people I called brother an' sister." "We were at war. People die." "They got massacred, Paulie, because they didn't know what they were flyin' into. I was deliberately kept in the dark because some egghead in Intelligence wanted data on that superweapon. And now you want me to tell starry-eyed wet-behind-the-ears kids how to fly and fight without knowin' what they're going t' be fightin'? Forget it. I got enough blood on my hands as it is." "So I heard. How's the leg-breaking going?" I gave him a thousand-yard stare of my own. "At least these chuckleheads have it comin'. Kids like Parker and Tibalt and Sanderson never did anything wrong. And I'm expected t' just keep on goin' when shit's being kept from me that could've saved 'em? No." "Hear me out." "No, Paulie. Fuck your orders, and fuck you for knockin' on my door." "These are monsters, Jack. Not aliens with tech we can use. Not an enemy with tactics we can exploit. These are just monsters. You'll know as much as we do. Nothing held back, nothing under wraps. That is a promise." I sat back down. I turned it over in my head. Fuck Paulie even harder for having a point. Those kids were going to face combat if I trained them or not, but at least if I gave them the benefit of my experience, they might stand a chance out there. And if I knew what we were up against as much as the black-hearted so-called 'Intelligence' branch did... I took another long pull from the bottle. "Full restitution to the family of every man I lost. Their children's children had better have college funds." "Done." "And I want a free hand to train these kids as hard as I like. I don't want to give ya anybody only half-prepared for what's out there. You'll have hardened Variable pilots or you'll have kids getting sent home to live long, healthy lives makin' babies in suburbia." "Done." "Can I have a pony?" "Fuck off, Jack, this is serious." I grinned at Paulie and finished my whiskey. I threw the bottle out of the window, and was rewarded with a shattering sound and some cursing. "Fuckin' vagrant out back thinks he's hot shit." "Are you done?" I walked to my closet. I didn't think I'd ever be doing this again. But, against the voices in my head, the screams of the dying, the pleas of Tibalt to look after his son and Sanderson to tell her wife she loved her, I pulled back the cheap shirts and scuffed pants hanging there, and pulled open the false panel in the back. My uniform was there, preserved and crisp in the airtight container, from the beret with my major's rank on the Variable Defense Force flash to the seams of the pants. I turned to Paulie and gave him a salute. "No, sir. I'm just gettin' started."

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Writer Report: Brief Respite

Writer Report: Brief Respite — Blue Ink Alchemy

This is my week between travel in August. Otakon is behind me, and PAX Prime is ahead. The trip to Seattle will be much longer than the one to Baltimore, and I'll have a bit more Internet access while I'm there. Reluctant as I am to check a bag, I think it's going to be necessary. I can't travel as light as I did for a long weekend, since I'll be in Seattle for entire week and change. Thankfully, most of the people I'm staying with will have laundry they're willing to let me use. I love having an adventure on the horizon. Cold Streets is inching towards the first draft finish line. I wrote a scene on the train last week, and I'm closing the gap towards it. I'm excited. It's the last big confrontation, and while I'm pretty much done with action for the novella, there will still be tension and drama, and hopefully a few more character revelations. I hope I'm doing this one better than I did Cold Iron. Proud as I am of my first published literary child, I know it's got some flaws and rough spots. This is a good way to iron them out, I feel, and get feedback and even a little cash flow going. I'm going to keep at it, keep carving out writing time in raw, bloody chunks, keep looking to a future that has more and more good aspects to it the closer I get.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Book Review: The Fault In Our Stars

Book Review: The Fault In Our Stars — Blue Ink Alchemy

I have a confession to make. I follow John Green around. I follow his Tumblr. I follow his Twitter. I subscribe to his YouTube channels CrashCourse, MentalFloss and Vlogbrothers. I do this because I believe him to be extremely intelligent and insightful. I deeply admire his goal to, as he puts it, "decrease worldsuck" through the efforts of various charities and the input of the Nerdfighters who also follow him. And he's a New York Times bestselling author, a distinction he's earned for the young adult tale of romance called The Fault in Our Stars. Hazel Grace Lancaster, sixteen years old, is living with cancer. A miracle in an ER and the advanced drug Phalaxifor left her with the necessity of an oxygen tank to help her failing lungs take in air. She's trying to make the most of her time, attending college courses since she finished high school early, but her parents insist she also go to a local support group instead of just staying at home watching America's Next Top Model. Reluctant as she is, Hazel tries to endure, making faces and sharing sighs with her friend Isaac, until the night Isaac arrives with a young man named Augustus Waters. The first thing that impressed me about The Fault in Our Stars was the reality and intelligence in Hazel's voice. She is not the kind of person to hide from or conceal her feelings or attitude, which is extremely admirable, especially in a teenager. Rather than put on airs or try to be something she's not, Hazel owns her situation no matter what it might be, and is very much the sort of person who wishes to be the master of their own destiny. Her feelings for Augustus do mess with this inner dynamic somewhat, and reading about her difficulty in that regard is just as engrossing as Augustus himself. Charming and intelligent in his own right, it's clear why these two fall in love, despite (or perhaps because of) their circumstances. They're such rich, real characters that you can't help but empathize with them, and it's that empathy that keeps the pages turning. The Fault in Our Stars presents some complex ideas and deep themes about life, death, identity and the contract between author and reader, but it is not itself a complex read. Green is not interested in any shadow plays or narrative slight of hand. He keeps the story moving and the points simple, yet still weaves an involving and emotional narrative. This is another case in which simplicity in storytelling does not necessarily mean the story suffers. In fact, the simplicity of the plot means there's more room for us to get to know our characters, even minor ones, which makes The Fault in Our Stars come to life in a way that other epic tales might envy. I cannot recommend The Fault in Our Stars highly enough. It is a rich, involving story of young love and true loss that strikes home with the power and ferocity of a bullet from a high-powered sniper rifle, and John Green has perfect narrative aim. The book will, in most cases, make the reader tear up or even weep openly at times. Every tear is worth it, though, and I hope that more young adult fiction aspires to emulate a story like this as opposed to some of the other stuff that's out there. Young people deserve great stories, and The Fault in Our Stars is one of the best.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Book Review: The Fault In Our Stars

Book Review: The Fault In Our Stars — Blue Ink Alchemy

I have a confession to make. I follow John Green around. I follow his Tumblr. I follow his Twitter. I subscribe to his YouTube channels CrashCourse, MentalFloss and Vlogbrothers. I do this because I believe him to be extremely intelligent and insightful. I deeply admire his goal to, as he puts it, "decrease worldsuck" through the efforts of various charities and the input of the Nerdfighters who also follow him. And he's a New York Times bestselling author, a distinction he's earned for the young adult tale of romance called The Fault in Our Stars. Hazel Grace Lancaster, sixteen years old, is living with cancer. A miracle in an ER and the advanced drug Phalaxifor left her with the necessity of an oxygen tank to help her failing lungs take in air. She's trying to make the most of her time, attending college courses since she finished high school early, but her parents insist she also go to a local support group instead of just staying at home watching America's Next Top Model. Reluctant as she is, Hazel tries to endure, making faces and sharing sighs with her friend Isaac, until the night Isaac arrives with a young man named Augustus Waters. The first thing that impressed me about The Fault in Our Stars was the reality and intelligence in Hazel's voice. She is not the kind of person to hide from or conceal her feelings or attitude, which is extremely admirable, especially in a teenager. Rather than put on airs or try to be something she's not, Hazel owns her situation no matter what it might be, and is very much the sort of person who wishes to be the master of their own destiny. Her feelings for Augustus do mess with this inner dynamic somewhat, and reading about her difficulty in that regard is just as engrossing as Augustus himself. Charming and intelligent in his own right, it's clear why these two fall in love, despite (or perhaps because of) their circumstances. They're such rich, real characters that you can't help but empathize with them, and it's that empathy that keeps the pages turning. The Fault in Our Stars presents some complex ideas and deep themes about life, death, identity and the contract between author and reader, but it is not itself a complex read. Green is not interested in any shadow plays or narrative slight of hand. He keeps the story moving and the points simple, yet still weaves an involving and emotional narrative. This is another case in which simplicity in storytelling does not necessarily mean the story suffers. In fact, the simplicity of the plot means there's more room for us to get to know our characters, even minor ones, which makes The Fault in Our Stars come to life in a way that other epic tales might envy. I cannot recommend The Fault in Our Stars highly enough. It is a rich, involving story of young love and true loss that strikes home with the power and ferocity of a bullet from a high-powered sniper rifle, and John Green has perfect narrative aim. The book will, in most cases, make the reader tear up or even weep openly at times. Every tear is worth it, though, and I hope that more young adult fiction aspires to emulate a story like this as opposed to some of the other stuff that's out there. Young people deserve great stories, and The Fault in Our Stars is one of the best.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Dust's Cape

Flash Fiction: Dust's Cape — Blue Ink Alchemy

One of the titles generated by the Random Story Title Generator for this Terribleminds challenge inspired the following.

---

The people passing by on the street probably saw her as one of Boston's countless bohemian young people. Between the purple in her hair and the rings in her lip, it was an easy mistake to make, and one she on which she relied. What was the point, after all, of maintaining a secret identity if people picked you out of a crowd on sight alone? The Copley Plaza loomed over her. Her friend on the force dropped hints that Chavetti and his crew were meeting there. More than once in sessions at the social worker's office that was practically her second home, the names came up. Chavetti. Charlie B. Big Mike. Dice. The same police friend had also indicated that they were here for a reason: meeting some big overseas honcho. Apparently, the FBI would be watching the hotel. The thought made the sushi in her stomach flail in anxiety. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She'd walked through plenty of hotel lobbies before. If she walked with intent and didn't look around nervously, nobody'd look twice. Even the gym bag wouldn't seem out of place. She took a deep breath, crossed the street, and walked through the hotel doors. Chavetti likes the suite on 6, her detective friend had said. He likes the view. She didn't pause or hesitate at all as she moved through the lobby. It was only once she was in the elevator that she caught her breath, and told herself to calm down. Once she pressed the button for 6, she dropped her gym bag, pulled it open, and removed the cape from within. It was long enough to cover her from her shoulders to her ankles, and the hood easily covered her entire head. As she swept it over her shoulders, she felt the sensation wash over her, like fine grains of sand were running down her entire body. It was not unpleasant, but it still unnerved her every time. The cape was a curio, something that had been tucked away in her grandfather's attic for years before she found it. Neither of her grandparents could provide an explanation as to what it was or where it had come from: her grandmother lost a battle with Alzheimer's years ago, and her grandfather was very serious about the secrets he kept. Still, as the inscrutable magic of the cape swept over her street clothes, transforming them into the tough but flexible fabric that hugged her curves and protected her, she had to wonder where her grandfather had acquired it, and if he knew its true nature. The elevator doors opened, and Dust stepped into the hallway. Discovering the cape had been eclipsed by discovering its powers, which had happened over several nights when she'd visited her grandfather with her parents after her grandmother's funeral. Upon donning the cape for the first time, as it changed her clothes, she heard the voices of every mourning victim in her office. Social work wasn't easy, and she'd always told herself that just listening made a difference. With the cape on, however, she always felt like she could do more than just listen. She could act. She could do what others could not. Touch those the law found untouchable. Bring justice where it was sorely needed. So what if the cops called her a vigilante? Dust approached the suite quietly. When she arrived at the door, she leaned towards it without touching it, her ear towards the wood. The doors were very thick, but she could make out several men laughing. Stepping back, she lifted the hood over her head, and focused her attention on the cape, and the arcane symbols stitched into its inner surface. She pulled the cape close around her, and in the next heartbeat, she felt herself dissolving into fine grains in the carpet. To a passer-by, she might have resembled a pile of brown sugar or sand. She was still capable of motion, however, and she slid under the door into the suite. She couldn't see so much as perceive the people in the room. There were at least six of them, possibly as many as eight. She had to assume they were all armed. She slid through the carpet towards what she hoped was the window, and willed herself to begin taking her normal shape. As she did, and her hearing came back, she heard the air conditioning turn on. This was good; any bit of wind could be helpful for her cause. When her eyesight was restored, she fixed her gaze on the short, slick, douchey face of Chavetti. "I think you've made enough families mourn, Chavetti." Charlie B and Dice went for their guns. She waited for the last possible moment before she released her form again, moving with the wind as she felt bullets passing harmlessly through the dust she left in her wake as she moved. Dust stung the eyes of the gangsters and they began to fire wildly. She passed between them, moving as fast as she could, and when they started screaming in pain, she found herself smiling. She kept moving in her semi-dust state until the screaming either stopped or lessened to pained moans, and she stood before Chavetti, who was cowering behind a couch. "You... you know who you just..." "No. I don't. Look at my face. Do I look like I care?" Chavetti raised a hand. "Please..." "Like all those families who begged you? You've had this coming." She went granular again, this time falling into Chavetti's mouth and nose. The sensation was odd, but she mentally bore down and kept the gangster under her until he choked on her dust. Then, pulling herself free, she left the room the same way she entered, leaving the doorknob and lock untouched. Outside, with her bag over her shoulder and tea in hand, she watched the police cars and ambulance speed in. She waited until they wheeled out the body bags, then walked away.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Deluge Summer 2013

Deluge Summer 2013 — Blue Ink Alchemy

I was hoping to have time this morning to wrap up this week's Flash Fiction after the start I got last night. Otakon wrapped up well, I travelled without incident, and went to bed thinking I can finish what I began before getting some much-needed rest. I woke up to find one of my neighbors building an ark in the lake forming in the parking lot. It's wet out there, folks. It's slow and there's flooding and oh God I left my window cracked yesterday evening why did I even do that. So, yeah. I have to get right into the tasks assigned me by the day job. Writing will, unfortunately, have to wait. Be careful out there. It's pretty moist.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

The Author Is Out: Baltimore 2013

The Author Is Out: Baltimore 2013 — Blue Ink Alchemy

I will be in Baltimore, Maryland for the Otakon anime convention for the weekend. If you're in the area, look me up! I'll be part of the staff, working with the Panels department. This should put Flash Fiction on Tuesday, and a review of a game on Wednesday. It's about time I reviewed another game, don't you think? I'll work on a bit of Cold Streets in the Redskine while I'm away. Hopefully I can make some headway there, too.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

My Board Gaming Future

My Board Gaming Future — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Theology of Games For those of you who don't know, Shut Up & Sit Down is an excellent show about board games. Most of them are reviews, but there are a few Let's Plays and specials sprinkled in. Paul and Quinns are great hosts, breaking down game mechanics and thematic elements in concise and entertaining matters, and games feel truly reviewed, not just discussed. They are also, however, horrible bastards. There are a few games out there I simply have to acquire in the future, and I blame them entirely for making me aware of said games. I unfortunately have not played NetRunner in some time. As it is a two-player game, it can be difficult in my situation to nail down a convenient time for myself and another person inclined towards asymmetrical living card game play with a dystopian cyberpunk theme to throw down. However, it still very much appeals to me, and more expansions have been added since I last played. I want to experiment with these new cards and find both the most fun and subversive Runner deck and the most obstinate and dastardly Corporate deck I can build. I like deckbuilding, I like Blade Runner and Snow Crash and Deus Ex, so NetRunner remains a winner. One of SU&SD's most recent reviews was Tales of Arabian Knights. I'm a great fan of storytelling, especially in a collaborative setting, and Tales seems particularly inclined towards creating new tales with fun and interesting twists. The fact that the game is pure cooperation like Arkham Horror but with more chances for your friends to be directly involved in your actions is also an idea I like. I like games where players are encouraged to work together, even if there can only be one ultimate winner. It seems to me that, in Tales, everybody wins if the stories told make everybody laugh or keep everybody interested. So that's a co-op game. But what is this "semi co-op" distinction I've heard? Archipelago is such a game, according to the boys, and it centers around representing colonialism in a very thematic way without referencing direct historical events. The game begins with exploration on the open sea, and players travel to new undiscovered islands to expand their holdings. The land must be exploited to get ahead, and while there is no true extermination to make Archipelago a true 4X game on a board, it feels so close to the likes of Civilization and Master of Orion that I've nearly bought it a couple times already. You and the other players do need to prevent disaster and uprisings to keep the game going, but in the end, only one of you will acquire enough victory points to be the winner. Terra Mystica has no co-operative elements whatsoever, but the elements it does have really appeal to me. In the review, it's clear that progression is a balancing act, weighing the potential to win points over the speed of future expansions. In Terra Mystica, your fantasy race must transform the very land itself in order to expand its holdings, sort of like if the races of SmallWorld took up agriculture (...and sorcery and elemental worship and aggressive territorial expansion through real estate). I can see chess-like move-countermove action happening in this game, as well as unexpected twists like casting the right spell at the right time or the sudden rise of a cult. It's one of those games where it seems no two games would be alike, and that is right up my alley. Last but certainly not least is just about any game designed by Vlaada Chvátil. I've played Galaxy Trucker once, and I'd love to do it again, this time focusing more on my opponents' misfortune than my own. It's that kind of game; there's just as much fun in a little schadenfreude as there is in building spaceships. Mage Knight has strong appeal due to its theme of powerful wizards striding across the world doing battle to win glory and power, and as intimidating as the rules might be, wrapping my mind around them seems like a worthy challenge. Then there's Space Alert. I've heard it is an intense, challenging and ultimately hilarious game, much like Artemis for computers or Spaceteam for mobile devices. We shall have to see! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I like board games. I like them a lot. I want to play more of them, and in fact, I've been contemplating some ideas of my own that may or may not get developed in the near future. My challenge is finding people to play with. I appreciate a solitaire experience as much as the next gamer, but sometimes, you want to share the game with at least one other person, and let strategy, interaction, laughter and the occasional verbal deluge of caustic profanity fill your evening. At least, that's what I want.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

My Board Gaming Future

My Board Gaming Future — Blue Ink Alchemy

For those of you who don't know, Shut Up & Sit Down is an excellent show about board games. Most of them are reviews, but there are a few Let's Plays and specials sprinkled in. Paul and Quinns are great hosts, breaking down game mechanics and thematic elements in concise and entertaining matters, and games feel truly reviewed, not just discussed. They are also, however, horrible bastards. There are a few games out there I simply have to acquire in the future, and I blame them entirely for making me aware of said games. I unfortunately have not played NetRunner in some time. As it is a two-player game, it can be difficult in my situation to nail down a convenient time for myself and another person inclined towards asymmetrical living card game play with a dystopian cyberpunk theme to throw down. However, it still very much appeals to me, and more expansions have been added since I last played. I want to experiment with these new cards and find both the most fun and subversive Runner deck and the most obstinate and dastardly Corporate deck I can build. I like deckbuilding, I like Blade Runner and Snow Crash and Deus Ex, so NetRunner remains a winner. One of SU&SD's most recent reviews was Tales of Arabian Knights. I'm a great fan of storytelling, especially in a collaborative setting, and Tales seems particularly inclined towards creating new tales with fun and interesting twists. The fact that the game is pure cooperation like Arkham Horror but with more chances for your friends to be directly involved in your actions is also an idea I like. I like games where players are encouraged to work together, even if there can only be one ultimate winner. It seems to me that, in Tales, everybody wins if the stories told make everybody laugh or keep everybody interested. So that's a co-op game. But what is this "semi co-op" distinction I've heard? Archipelago is such a game, according to the boys, and it centers around representing colonialism in a very thematic way without referencing direct historical events. The game begins with exploration on the open sea, and players travel to new undiscovered islands to expand their holdings. The land must be exploited to get ahead, and while there is no true extermination to make Archipelago a true 4X game on a board, it feels so close to the likes of Civilization and Master of Orion that I've nearly bought it a couple times already. You and the other players do need to prevent disaster and uprisings to keep the game going, but in the end, only one of you will acquire enough victory points to be the winner. Terra Mystica has no co-operative elements whatsoever, but the elements it does have really appeal to me. In the review, it's clear that progression is a balancing act, weighing the potential to win points over the speed of future expansions. In Terra Mystica, your fantasy race must transform the very land itself in order to expand its holdings, sort of like if the races of SmallWorld took up agriculture (...and sorcery and elemental worship and aggressive territorial expansion through real estate). I can see chess-like move-countermove action happening in this game, as well as unexpected twists like casting the right spell at the right time or the sudden rise of a cult. It's one of those games where it seems no two games would be alike, and that is right up my alley. Last but certainly not least is just about any game designed by Vlaada Chvátil. I've played Galaxy Trucker once, and I'd love to do it again, this time focusing more on my opponents' misfortune than my own. It's that kind of game; there's just as much fun in a little schadenfreude as there is in building spaceships. Mage Knight has strong appeal due to its theme of powerful wizards striding across the world doing battle to win glory and power, and as intimidating as the rules might be, wrapping my mind around them seems like a worthy challenge. Then there's Space Alert. I've heard it is an intense, challenging and ultimately hilarious game, much like Artemis for computers or Spaceteam for mobile devices. We shall have to see! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I like board games. I like them a lot. I want to play more of them, and in fact, I've been contemplating some ideas of my own that may or may not get developed in the near future. My challenge is finding people to play with. I appreciate a solitaire experience as much as the next gamer, but sometimes, you want to share the game with at least one other person, and let strategy, interaction, laughter and the occasional verbal deluge of caustic profanity fill your evening. At least, that's what I want.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: The Wolverine

Movie Review: The Wolverine — Blue Ink Alchemy

You would think that a prospect like The Wolverine would not be considered risky. Wolverine is, after all, a well-established character in the Marvel universe, a member of so many teams that he risks overexposure. Yet it is that exposure that threatened this project from the outset. X-Men: The Last Stand is considered by many to be a failure, and Wolverine's first solo film, X-Men: Origins: Wolverine not only suffered from colon cancer but from a solid concept taken horribly off the rails by incompetent writers. I think it's safe to say that I, and many other X-fans, approached The Wolverine with trepidation... and breathed a large, collective sigh of relief when it didn't suck. Logan is wandering the earth following the events of X-Men: The Last Stand, haunted by memories and visions of the woman he loved that is now dead. His past does catch up to him, but not how he expects. A young Japanese woman taps him to return with her to Tokyo. A dying media magnate lives there, a man saved by Logan from the devastation of Nagasaki during World War II. The mogul, Yashida, offers Logan a gift: mortality. Before Logan can make up his mind properly, he is caught up in the machinations of Yashida's son Shingen, the plight of Yashida's granddaughter Mariko, and before he knows it, his healing powers have been stolen and he's on the run from the Yakuza. He's never been this vulnerable... or this dangerous. Even at his weakest, Wolverine is a guy you don't want to mess with, and Hugh Jackman, for his part, has definitely still "got it" as far as Logan is concerned. He doesn't so much walk as stalk from place to place. Even at his most civilized, there is something bestial about him, an animal quality that Jackman conveys perfectly. He's quick with sarcasm and deadpan lines that are delivered with ace timing, and his fight scenes look visceral and brutal. From the stunt work to the facial expressions to his furious cries, I cannot see any other actor bringing Logan to life the way Jackman does, and it's a huge part of The Wolverine's overall success.
If you run, he's just gonna chase you. Wolverine is familiar, though. To American audiences, the Canadian berserker anti-hero is a staple of comic book fantasy. Japan, on the other hand, is a world barely scratched by most American media. Thankfully, at no point does the setting feel caricaturized, satirized, or downplayed. Indeed, from Tokyo to the distant Yashida castle, Japan feels almost alien in its culture, customs, and populace. It's subtle and understated, rather than shoved at the screen as if to say "Look how weird this place is!" and this tasteful representation of another culture is another plus in the movie's favor. So much could have gone wrong in bringing Japan to this screen in this way, but the filmmakers nailed it. This juxtaposition of the savage and familiar Wolverine with the civilized and alien Japan is a chemical mixture that explodes with character, potential, and wonder. Through the lens of Logan's experiences, we see all sorts of things in new ways, from the character himself to the world he inhabits. That world feels dangerous, again, as well as lived-in. This was a sense conveyed in the original Wolverine comic mini-series by legendary writer Chris Claremont, and it is here as well. While the film doesn't short the audience in terms of action, the story points and character moments are so good that it doesn't feel action-heavy. It balances very well and strikes all the right chords from start to finish.
He cleans up nice. The Wolverine does have some flaws, in that the story is light in terms of intellectual investment. It's not as complex as it might seem, and while the reveal at the end does color the events differently, the execution felt like more like a shell game or common wool-over-the-eyes trick than any sort of filmmaking magic. There's also the fact that, rated PG-13 as it is, Wolverine's fights are relatively bloodless, which is surprising considering how he goes to town on people with his claws. Still, there's reportedly an unrated Blu-ray in the works, and you better believe I'll be buying it. Stuff I Liked: The fights are well done for the most part (see below). The final showdown is pretty interesting. Viper's an interesting character. I like that Logan still doesn't like to fly. The cameos of Famke Janssen were a nice touch. It feels like the X-Men films, including this one, are drawing closer and closer to the Marvel universe seen in The Avengers, and that's a good thing. Stuff I Didn't Like: I'm not a fan of bone claws. There's some shakey-cam in a few of the fights. The 'big mystery' feels like a bit of a let-down at the end, more like information was being deliberately withheld from the audience to create false suspense. Stuff I Loved: Hugh Jackman as Wolverine. The Yashida cast and Yukio. The portrayal of Japanese culture. The fact that character moments felt just as interesting and involving as any of the fights. STAY THROUGH THE CREDITS - there's a scene at the end that's well worth the price of admission. Bottom Line: This is the movie X-fans have been waiting for. The Wolverine delivers on every possible level without going completely over the top. A few minor quibbles hold it back from being entirely excellent, but it's a far, far cry from what we had before. I'm even more excited now for Days of Future Past than I was before, thanks to The Wolverine.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Movie Review: The Wolverine

Movie Review: The Wolverine — Blue Ink Alchemy

You would think that a prospect like The Wolverine would not be considered risky. Wolverine is, after all, a well-established character in the Marvel universe, a member of so many teams that he risks overexposure. Yet it is that exposure that threatened this project from the outset. X-Men: The Last Stand is considered by many to be a failure, and Wolverine's first solo film, X-Men: Origins: Wolverine not only suffered from colon cancer but from a solid concept taken horribly off the rails by incompetent writers. I think it's safe to say that I, and many other X-fans, approached The Wolverine with trepidation... and breathed a large, collective sigh of relief when it didn't suck. Logan is wandering the earth following the events of X-Men: The Last Stand, haunted by memories and visions of the woman he loved that is now dead. His past does catch up to him, but not how he expects. A young Japanese woman taps him to return with her to Tokyo, where a dying man was once saved by Logan from the devastation of Nagasaki during World War II. The man, Yashida, offers Logan a gift: mortality. Before Logan can make up his mind properly, he is caught up in the machinations of Yashida's son Shingen, the plight of Yashida's granddaughter Mariko, and before he knows it, his healing powers have been stolen and he's on the run from the Yakuza. He's never been this vulnerable... or this dangerous. Even at his weakest, Wolverine is a guy you don't want to mess with, and Hugh Jackman, for his part, has definitely still "got it" as far as Logan is concerned. He doesn't so much walk as stalk from place to place. Even at his most civilized, there is something bestial about him, an animal quality that Jackman conveys perfectly. He's quick with sarcasm and deadpan lines that are delivered with ace timing, and his fight scenes look visceral and brutal. From the stunt work to the facial expressions to his furious cries, I cannot see any other actor bringing Logan to life the way Jackman does, and it's a huge part of The Wolverine's overall success.
If you run, he's just gonna chase you. Wolverine is familiar, though. To American audiences, the Canadian berserker anti-hero is a staple of comic book fantasy. Japan, on the other hand, is a world barely scratched by most American media. Thankfully, at no point does the setting feel caricaturized, satirized, or downplayed. Indeed, from Tokyo to the distant Yashida castle, Japan feels almost alien in its culture, customs, and populace. It's subtle and understated, rather than shoved at the screen as if to say "Look how weird this place is!" and this tasteful representation of another culture is another plus in the movie's favor. So much could have gone wrong in bringing Japan to this screen in this way, but the filmmakers nailed it. This juxtaposition of the savage and familiar Wolverine with the civilized and alien Japan is a chemical mixture that explodes with character, potential, and wonder. Through the lens of Logan's experiences, we see all sorts of things in new ways, from the character himself to the world he inhabits. That world feels dangerous, again, as well as lived-in. This was a sense conveyed in the original Wolverine comic mini-series by legendary writer Chris Claremont, and it is here as well. While the film doesn't short the audience in terms of action, the story points and character moments are so good that it doesn't feel action-heavy. It balances very well and strikes all the right chords from start to finish.
He cleans up nice. The Wolverine does have some flaws, in that the story is light in terms of intellectual investment. It's not as complex as it might seem, and while the reveal at the end does color the events differently, the execution felt like more like a shell game or common wool-over-the-eyes trick than any sort of filmmaking magic. There's also the fact that, rated PG-13 as it is, Wolverine's fights are relatively bloodless, which is surprising considering how he goes to town on people with his claws. Still, there's reportedly an unrated Blu-ray in the works, and you better believe I'll be buying it. Stuff I Liked: The fights are well done for the most part (see below). The final showdown is pretty interesting. Viper's an interesting character. I like that Logan still doesn't like to fly. The cameos of Famke Janssen were a nice touch. It feels like the X-Men films, including this one, are drawing closer and closer to the Marvel universe seen in The Avengers, and that's a good thing. Stuff I Didn't Like: I'm not a fan of bone claws. There's some shakey-cam in a few of the fights. The 'big mystery' feels like a bit of a let-down at the end, more like information was being deliberately withheld from the audience to create false suspense. Stuff I Loved: Hugh Jackman as Wolverine. The Yashida cast and Yukio. The portrayal of Japanese culture. The fact that character moments felt just as interesting and involving as any of the fights. STAY THROUGH THE CREDITS - there's a scene at the end that's well worth the price of admission. Bottom Line: This is the movie X-fans have been waiting for. The Wolverine delivers on every possible level without going completely over the top. A few minor quibbles hold it back from being entirely excellent, but it's a far, far cry from what we had before. I'm even more excited now for Days of Future Past than I was before, thanks to The Wolverine.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Capital D

Capital D — Blue Ink Alchemy

Drugs, man. I was put on Abilify to try and combat some of my depressive periods. It's done that, but it's also given me an overwhelming sense of restlessness and an inability to properly focus on many tasks. I'm seeing my doctor tonight to help and deal with this. I'm hopeful I can still get my review of The Wolverine up tomorrow. As well as staying on top of work. I'm not sure if Cold Streets will get much closer to finished before Otakon. This doesn't make me feel good. But I don't feel I can push past this restless feeling on my own. There's got to be a better solution than this.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Magnum Damage

Flash Fiction: Magnum Damage — Blue Ink Alchemy

Courtesy Alistair Cunningham For the Terribleminds challenge, Somethingpunk. I think this qualifies more as laserpunk than cyberpunk, but you be the judge.

---

Jack Magnum was never more at home than he was on the ground, a warm beamer in his hand, goons on his tail. The incandescent neon of the street illumination and the various store signs were a counterpoint to the lances of hard light that sliced through the night. This had been a nice neighborhood once. Before Manhattan had been co-opted by the Cyber-Mafia, it had been making a comeback from the various financial failures of the early 21st century. That was before America got carved up and sold like so much cake at a desperate bake sale. But Jack Magnum hadn't given up on America. "Jack! Two more on your nine-o'-clock!" "I know." The AI in Jack's head, which called herself Artemis, was helpful in some situations and irritating in others. His cyber-enhanced senses and on-board radar could communicate with him at the speed of thought. There was no need for Artemis to engage his inner ear speaker to give him information he already knew. Still, there was a hard barrier between them when he was conscious, so he understood her desire to keep him safe. After all, if his body failed, she'd cease to exist. He swung his .75 caliber heater in the direction and squeezed off two rounds. The projector snapped off two flashes of steel-melting light, and one assailant found his faceplate burned off, exposed circuitry sizzling and its CPU melting down its chin and faux leather jacket. The Cyber-Mafia liked to dress its goons up like bikers, so the human populace didn't blatantly see the mostly robotic terrors that kept them in line and fed the syndicate its cash and bodies to maintain business with the struggling and laughable US government. "That's three total still on our tail, Jack. What's the plan?" "There's a hoverbike 100 meters ahead. Can you hack it?" "I'm on it." The wireless transmitter in Jack's skull hummed as Artemis tried to access the hoverbike's security and key it to Jack's DNA. Jack fired behind him, and heard a surprised, robotic squawk as another foot soldier got blasted. Two to go. If he couldn't blast them, he could outrun them, and keep the information packet in his hard drive out of Cyber-Mafia hands. "It's ready, Jack!" "Thanks, babe." He turned and sprinted backwards, taking his gun in both hands, firing a shot that melted the gun-arm off of one of his pursuers. The other opened fire, chewing up pavement just behind Jack. He had to turn quickly and jump, lest the half-molten pavement slow him down. The neon of the airbike snapped on, and Jack leapt onto it. He holstered his heater and revved the drive, getting the fans up to speed, and kicked hard off the ground. Standard airbikes didn't have much in the way of altitude, but the hop threw off the aim of his pursuers. He whipped around the corner and tapped the holo-projector in his right cybernetic eye to call up his GPS plotter. "They know your face, Jack. It's going to be hard to get off of Manhattan." "The CIA didn't hire me because this would be easy, Artemis. Now find me a chopper or a boat." "I'm on it. I'm just saying, they're going to shut down the island rather than let you off." "I don't get what the big deal is." Jack swerved around a truck, which honked at him on general principle. "All I have is the shipping manifests for the Cyber-Mafia's airplanes and boats for the next six months, and a detailed list of every government document to which they have access." "Which means they can no longer blackmail the government into holding Manhattan, I know. It's what they wanted you to get." Jack's map was replaced by a holo-representation of Artemis. He knew it was a replication of one of her designers, a petite young woman with bangs, short hair in the back, and a form-fitting suit. "But Jack, the Cyber-Mafia's been in control of the island for almost a decade. They have a private army. Hell, for all we know they have an air force by this point. How do you plan on getting around them?" "If I can't, I'll just go through 'em. Just like in Casablanca." Artemis rolled her eyes. "Jack, after Casablanca, your organics were barely alive and your system was shot to pieces. You had to crawl onto the rescue boat and it nearly sank!" "We'll be okay, Art. Trust me." She sighed. "I hope you're right." She brought his GPS back up and plotted a course through the streets to a dock. Smiling, Jack revved the engine and made a sharp turn. Minutes later, he brought the bike to a halt near the dock. He blasted the lock off of the gate with his heater, and made his way down to the boats. Artemis had picked out a small speedboat, rigged up for water skiing. It was a derelict, a relic from before the Cyber-Mafia. Artemis walked him through getting the engine running and disengaging the rig that could slow them down. When he looked up, he saw spotlights in the distance. "Artemis, tell me those are CIA choppers on the other side of the sea wall." "Negative. Cyber-Mafia attack choppers on an intercept course. Three of them so far." "Well, shit." Jack pulled out his head and checked the charge. 50%. Probably enough to take down one chopper with a well-placed full-power shot. He looked down at the boat. "Artemis, I need to know how to drive this thing like a pro." "Jack..." "Look, we're the only hope the country has of getting back to what it was. It has to start with us. We have to at least try. Agreed?" "You mess up, you're going to get us both killed." There was a pause. Then, suddenly, a rush of information, part head-swimming kiss from a beautiful woman, part searing shock of straight whiskey. "So don't." Jack Magnum smiled. "Trust me, darlin'. Just hang on. It'll be fun!"

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Writer Report: Home Stretch

Writer Report: Home Stretch — Blue Ink Alchemy

I'll keep this short today, but everything is going pretty swimmingly here. I'm down to the last two scenes of Cold Streets now. I should be able to knock one out this coming week, and the last the week after. This is good because next week is Otakon. And then a week and a half after that I will be preparing for a long trip to Seattle in the run-up to PAX Prime. This month is absolutely insane for me. I kind of love it.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy

Flash Fiction: Gods and Robbers

Flash Fiction: Gods and Robbers — Blue Ink Alchemy

Chuck's weekly demand this time is to include four random items. Can you spot them all?

---

They dragged him into the office by his arms. His legs felt weak; there was no way they could support his weight with them yanking him along. He was tossed onto the carpet like a sack of garbage. He found himself looking at the skull of what some might have considered a large lizard, but he recognized as a small dragon. It had been re-purposed to serve as the base of an umbrella stand. "We found him, Father," said one of the twins. "He thought to hide from you among the mortal officers of the law." The other twin tossed the badge onto the expansive desk that blocked most of his view. He struggled to look up, fighting down waves of pain. He got a kick in the kidneys for his trouble. "Castor, Pollux, I'm surprised at you." The voice from behind the desk was deep, grandfatherly, almost kind; yet in it was the rumble, the muted flash, the sense one gets when a storm is blowing in. "This is my guest, not some common churl. Get him in a chair, for Gaea's sake. And clean up his face. I won't have him ruining my carpet." The twins obeyed, hauling him into one of the chairs facing the desk. A wet rag all but smashed into his face, and as the blood was wiped away, he tried to will his bleeding to stop. Whatever charm they'd used to stunt his powers, it seemed to have faded, as his head cleared immediately. He blinked, and looked up to face the man he'd been dragged to see. Behind the chess board on the desk sat what appeared to be an elderly man with broad shoulders and the solid build of someone who'd spent a lifetime perfecting his physical form. His suit was tailored, hand-made, and clearly costly. His white hair was long, and his beard was somewhat fluffy. Had the suit been red, one might mistake him for Santa Claus. "Now, Prometheus. What would possess you to put on the airs of a policeman? In the game of 'Cops and Robbers', would I not be the cop?" "It let me get close to one of Chronos' servants. I was trying to help..." Pollux backhanded Prometheus. "No lies before the mighty Zeus!" "Pollux, please! Castor, look after your brother." Zeus reached down and plucked the bishop from his side of the board, examining it. "Prometheus, you and I have had our differences. I'm still not certain how you escaped your prison in the first place. But we both know that my word is law. And that law cannot be countermanded, not by the cleverness of any being, mortal or Titan." "I could be back on that mountain now, if you willed it." "Perhaps." "Then why am I here?" Zeus smiled, and replaced the chess piece. "I'm curious more than I am angry. How did you escape, and why?" "The how doesn't matter. The why does. I told you: I can help you fight Chronos and the other Titans. Time is against us. You should hear what I have to say." Zeus raised an eyebrow. Thunder rolled in the distance. "Have a care, Titan. I am not so curious that I am willing to permit you to command me. Begin at the beginning. How did you escape?" "I made a deal with the eagle." Zeus laughed. "A deal? What could you possibly offer it that was not the liver of an immortal?" "I told it about America. I told it that it was a sacred animal there. It, too, could be truly immortal, and not simply tasked with devouring me. I said, 'If you free me, I will take you there, and you will be adored and loved.' It took a few days... and a few livers... but it believed me." Promet heus tried not to blanch at the memories. Centuries, millenia had gone by, and every day, atop that lonely mountain that killed any mortal that attempted its summit, the eagle tore him open and made him feel every snapping sinew and every bite at his innards until death came like a merciful, dreamless, abyssal sleep. He'd long stopped cursing his fate each time he awoke, and it was only through the tiny fraction of power he'd had left that he was able to learn of the far-off land the eagle wished to see. "Where is it now?" "A zoo, in Chicago." "Hah! Duplicity worthy of any of my children. Even as a fugitive you do not disappoint." Prometheus nodded. "I am happy to have amused you, my Lord." Zeus waved his hand. "Pshaw. I have Wingus and Dingus here to kowtow to me. You, however, never bowed. You defied me, and not from jealousy or fear or anger. You defied me to do what you felt was right. Defiance had to be punished, but I always respected what you did." Prometheus blinked. The admission felt earnest, but oddly timed. It slowly dawned on Prometheus that he was right, and Zeus knew it. Chronos and the other Titans were growing stronger, and time was getting shorter. Slowly, so as not to antagonize the twins, Prometheus reached into his pocket, produced the sealed envelope, and handed it to Zeus. "This is why I escaped." Zeus looked at it. On it was written a single word. Hera. After a moment, the King of the Gods opened the envelope. He read the letter within. Twice. When he looked up at the twins, his eyes were alight with the fire of the sky, the lightning that was his herald and his wrath. "Leave us. Prometheus and I must speak alone." The twins bowed and retreated. Zeus set down the letter, glared at Prometheus for a long moment, and reached across the chess board to reset it. He moved his white king's pawn forward two squares, gesturing at Prometheus. "Tell me how this treachery began." Prometheus, in spite of the pain, smiled. He moved his queen's pawn forward.

---

Blue Ink Alchemy